Creepster

College, mission

  I've been lazy... Well that isn't something that is especially new lots of people are lazy. I am complaining because I have been lazy on one important thing in particular. COLLEGE. Where am I going to go once my high school career is over? You see, I am hoping to find some sort of creative writing program to help me with my goal of being published. And eventually, you know, making a living off of writing.
  Don't worry i'm not putting all of my eggs into that one basket. I am currently going through a diesel technology program at the moment. It is interesting and fun as well as being a good place to fall back on. But I know that what I really want to do is write. I enjoy it a lot and I think I have a lot to offer when it comes to writing. Not to brag but most of the time I am fairly good at it. (anyone who finds mistakes in this post can keep there mouth shut, haha did you see what I did there?) Back on topic. um well other than that I am simply not sure of what I am going to do yet. I have been an idiot waiting until the LAST MONTH POSSIBLE to try and find the school I want to go to. I mean it's not like waiting until November to figure where I want to apply was a good idea. Especially since the application deadline is DECEMBER 1st.
  Even worse, I now have another decision that I need to work with. MY MISSION, most of those who are reading this know what that is seeing how most of you are family and friends and therefore familiar with  the LDS religion. To those of you who are not I am going to explain. An LDS mission is when young men or young women of the Church volunteer to go and spend two years of their live's serving our Father in Heaven and spreading the Gospel. You see it used to be that young men became eligible for this service at age 19, provided they met other spiritual and physical requirements. Young women had the same option only their mission lasts for a year and a half and they weren't eligible until they were 21. Also all worthy and able young men were called to serve missions whereas young women could choose if they wanted to.
  I used to have a little cushion. A few months short of two years before I was going to be able to serve. And then came General Conference, President Thomas S. Monson, the Prophet of our Church announced that the age of eligibility was going to be changed, for young men they were to be able to go out when they were 18, for young women, age 19.
  If you are curious as to why this is a big deal I'll explain, like I said previously I had nearly 2 years.
Now I have less than one.

Wow.

This changes everything.




I'm not saying it is a bad thing, not at all. In fact I am extremely excited at this new opportunity that has been provided. My goal is make sure that I prepare as much as I can so that I can be worthy and ready to serve as soon as possible. I know that there is no where I need to be more than where the Lord is going to send me.



P.S. I don't have any story prepared for today, sorry, I might have one later but there is a pretty good chance that none will come out today.

That scene from my book

The knife broke free from his hand; my attackers’ eyes widened as large as saucers and he took a step back. I brandished the oddly twisted blade and threaten him.
“Now leave before I cut you.”

     Oddly the man smiled at hearing that. His arm lashed out. I cringed and raised the knife to block the blow. The hand struck and molded around the knife. The cold steel edge sliced through skin and sinew, blood gushed down and dripped onto the ground.

     I met his eyes, they shone. He threw himself back with a smile on his face. He grips his hands together tightly in front of him. His hands snapped out leaving a trail of crimson between them. It hangs there slowly undulating. I find myself transfixed as it slowly rotates into a thin sheet. The blood seemed to flow within itself. I saw him then. Everything that made this man was displayed for all to see. Anger. Lust. Hate. These I saw first but I grew to know him I saw that they were laced with underlying emotions. Fear, need, and loneliness had burnt themselves into every part of this man. My study was interrupted by a form taking place in front of everything else. A feral dog began running towards me in the blood. Its dark red nose broke the surface causing it to ripple. I had never been this terrified before in my life. I completely froze as the animal bore down on me. Its full weight struck me and knocked me to the ground. Its great jaws, still dripping with the blood it came from opened wide preparing to snap on the soft flesh of my throat. I only felt the lightest pressure of teeth and smelled the scent of dog and blood before it was lifted off of me.

     A blur shot over me and into the beast. I raised myself to my elbows only to see a tall two legged bird crushing the head of the dog. Its skull was cracked and its jaws were broken off to the side yet it still struggled beneath the powerful legs. I looked up to the man; he writhed on the ground, sharp cries slipping through his mouth.

     He froze and so did the dog. Then the man got up onto all fours and the dog went limp. He ran out of the alley on hands and feet barking as he left.  

     “I wondered whether he was going to die or break first. It’s a tragedy but that’s the only way you can deal with thugs like that.”

     I whirled around. A woman stood several paces behind me. She was pretty, with a soft heart shaped face, delicate pink lips, and shining blue eyes. She wore trousers and a long sleeved shirt; they were dark and well fitting. A hood covered her hair but two golden locks escaped and curled down the side of her face.

     “Who are…?” I began.

     “I was going to compliment you for taking his knife. But, then you managed to cut him with it. Are you stupid?”

     “Why would I…?”

     “I can’t believe I wasted my time saving you. It would have been a mercy to let you die instead of making you live with your own idiocy.

     “That’s…”

     “Whatever, come with me.” And with that she sprinted out of the alley alongside the large bird.

     I stood there dazed for a minute. Questions blazed through my skull. What just happened? How did that dog come out of a puddle of blood? Can I trust that woman? Who was she? Then another question moved to the front of my mind. Who am I?

Update and new writing post

  So got a comment asking me why I hadn't posted in a while (sister) the reason is that I forgot about it. Plus I have had very little time. See, I just finished the ACT, a fun little test where they determine how well you do in subjects like math, English, science and reading, then they send that information off to colleges so that they can know if they want you in their school.

  Well I feel like did fairly well, I spent some time studying during the past month, not nearly as much as I should have but i think I did better than the first time, on which I scored a 27, this time I've had the advantage of not being sick but also the distinct disadvantage of not having taken any math or science classes this year. English and reading are a piece of cake because well. I enjoy both of those plus having to copy-edit people's newspaper articles before they get published makes correcting things really quick and easy.

 That's pretty much it for now, um I've decided that I am going to post a scene from the book I'm working on, please remember it is a very rough draft but any helpful criticism would definitely be appreciated.

Foster kids, politics, journals and Romance

I apologize for my epic tardiness on this post.  Due to incredible business and even more intense forces of procrastination and having no idea what to write  I have been unable to do so until now. I have lately been working on a newspaper article, for those of you who do not know me I write for an extremely small newspaper. Like extremely small, but that is not important, what I wanted to talk about is the subject or angle of my article... You would think I could keep track but have I posted about writing an article before? I'll have to go back and check. Never mind the article is about the lives of children in foster care and those who have been in foster care. The stories I've heard are amazing, and terrible, and horrifying. I am incredibly amazed by the people whom I have spoken to. They have been through a lot and yet they have come through it strong. I always be amazed by people and the things they can live through.

    Lets move on, just a heads up at some point in the future, probably not to far away I am going to make a post all about my opinion on who should be president and such. This post will be a for a scholarship and I would appreciate lots of posts to go with it. Thank You!

   Once again. Moving on.  I on Tuesday I will be posting again, it will be another like the two stories I've posted only it will be different. It is going to be the beginning  of a sort of series of posts. It going to be journalistic style and in character. I haven't decided who yet but I hope it turns out pretty cool.

 Umm...  one more thing. Its just a little thing I wanted to share that I discovered a week or so ago. It's a web comic... I know I'm a nerd deal with it,   it is called Romantically Apocalyptic the address is at www.rom.ac     the artwork is absolutely amazing, the characters are hilarious, and the story is very well thought out. Plus as far as I remember it doesn't even swear. In fact a lot of the comments people leave make fun of the places where the author puts his own phrases instead of the crude comments he could make.

Well that is all I have for now so goodnight, hey! its almost saturday

Funny?...

Death of a Comedian

            Spotlights shine down into my eyes. Their heat creates a sheen of sweat on my face as I tell my punch line.

 “Wow,” I said, “I’m likin’ that!” Everyone in the room started to laugh. The laughing continued a moment so I let it die down.

            “Thank you, you’ve been great, goodnight.”  I quickly exited the stage and descended into the pit that is called back stage. People flowed left and right as I made my way through the river of crew members which made the event seem to run so smoothly.

            I finally pushed past the stampede and made it to my room. I slammed the door behind me and leaned back on it sighing, “I’m glad that’s over.”

            “Over huh? I thought you had six more shows this week?”

            I jumped slightly as I realized I wasn’t alone in the room. A large, dark, man with cauliflower ears and a broken nose sat in large plush armchair in the corner of my room.

            “It’s too bad for those who bought tickets, almost makes me want to wait until the end of the week but, oh well, that’s life.”

            I began to tremble as he stood up out of his chair and took a lengthy stride over to me.

            “Please, relax it will make this so much easier.” His mouth split open in a grotesque grin displaying brown rotting teeth. “You know what, tell me a joke and I’ll give you one more day, but it had better make me laugh, or else…”

            My mind frantically raced and I went through my list of jokes until I decided on my closer. It was sure to make him laugh, hopefully…

            I began to stutter, “Um okay have you ever heard the one about the dog and the pizza? Well one day…” Bang, Bang, Bang! Three knocks cracked across the door and a voice shouted from the other side.

            “Hey, boss man say’s you need to move your car, it’s parked in a handicapped spot.”

            “Oh okay I’ll get right on that,” I choked out.

            The large man shook his head and said, “It’s too bad, that wasn’t funny at all. And I thought you had so much talent.”

            My eyes bulged, “Wait no! I didn’t get to tell my joke, I…”

Valentine's, Ballet and spartan kicking midget doors

     Valentine's day, a day dreaded or looked forward to around the country. Also one which I don't really want to talk about. I was planning on putting a few things about it maybe a rant or something but it doesn't interest me so I'm going to let someone else whine about it.
 
   After the milk incident my week has gone pretty well. The Thursday after that I went on a date to the ballet "Don Quixote" I hope I spelled that right. Not exactly my choice, it was a priest quorum activity. And if you live in Utah or are a Mormon you automatically know how old I am. (this is for those who might not know who I am, even though I doubt any of them are reading this)
 
 My opinion on the ballet was that.... well I didn't pay a lot of attention. I know there is a crazy old guy, some rich dude wearing pink. And a man that is needlessly not wearing pants, for some reason he it is impossible to play out his part while wearing pants, unlike all of the other dancers who do great even though they are hindered by pants or skirts. Coincidentally the man without pants, who from now on I will call MWP is the only one who messed up that night. Yeah he fell down, it was ridiculously funny. Now some of you may be unhappy for making fun of the ballet. You may even call me uncultured, which is probably true, but I don't care what my friend says watching men dance in tights in tights.
  By the way this friend is in my quorum and if I refer to him again he will be know as The Dancer.

  Here is the thing I won't put any names or faces of my friends or family on this website but if you know who they are you'll know who I am referring to.

  Anyway, I went to the ballet with a friend of mine who I will call McJagger, I know I know but I didn't pick the nickname it's one she already had. But she is one of my best friends and I took her to Sweethearts that Saturday. Yep whenever we are together we have a lot of fun. Just absolutely ridiculous things end up happening from spartan kicking a van to getting lost in a parking garage because we found a door that we were pretty sure was made for midgets. Is midget offensive? But yeah we ended separated from the people who were in our car although we could still talk to them because the entire place echoed. It was pretty awesome.

 Well I ended up writing way more than I meant to and only covered half of what I wanted to say oh well.

 I'll going to post another story after this, it's actually one I wrote for an English class and I would like to thank my brother for helping me with it's plot line.

Got Milk?

Here is the aftermath of dropping two gallons of milk

Rusty Trap

The Old Rusty Trap

            I am moving through my life careful as I can and I’m looking for the traps ahead. I see an old and rusty trap. Blood has dried on it. It’s been set off before. I think I recognize it. Yes, I do recognize it; I have been in it before. Now I know it’s there I know that he has set it for me. He is hoping that I fail; I can feel him watching me, grinning because he knows that even though I’m aware of it, even though I could easily step aside I will walk into it again.

            The blood on it is mine. I can still feel the wounds that it made on my body, and my mind. Yet there is still something attractive about it, something that inexorably draws me to it. It’s not concealed, he has displayed it right in front of me, his arrogance is amazing, but there must be something to it for I have not ever been able to escape it.

            I now stand above it; I can feel it calling to me. I crouch down and feel the sides of it, gently stroking the outside edge with the back of my hand. A little more courageously I feel the inside edge, the smallest mistake and it will go off and the sharp teeth with dig into my arm. I see the trigger, a small round pad directly in the center of the trap. When pushed it will snap shut with a furious speed and trap my poor arm.

            I begin to move my hand towards the trigger pad, as I do this all of the scars that run up and down my body began to burn in remembrance of the pain this action has cause me in the past. The scars begin at my legs, they are still red and sore for those first injuries never healed. Those on my arms came next; these still cause blood to run down the length of my arm. Finally the two on my ribs come with excruciating pain. The bleeding from these is accompanied by broken ribs which are the cause of a pained heart.

            I wish I had never fallen for this trap in the first place. It could have been easily avoided. Many people shared their knowledge of it, and their warnings of how best to avoid it. But in the intelligence of my self I saw fit to ignore it. And again, I could go past it easily enough and move on but I have to test it. Pit myself against it, see how far I can go until…. Snap! It shuts tight on me again.

            My hand is now hovering lightly above the trigger. I know this will hurt me; I know that I will regret this the second I do it. Slowly and cautiously I begin to push downward.

            A hand grabs my arm and quickly pulls me away. It has a wound on the back of his hand and going through to his palm. I look up and see my friend looking at me with a concerned look on his face. He helps me up and puts his arm around me. With me leaning on him, we walk carefully past the old rusty trap.

First post, talking about music, and begging a favor

This will be my first post. Yea! or is that supposed to be YEAH! whichever one has the long A sound is the one I'm looking for. Well lets get off of words. Can you be on words? Whatever, I'm going to tell you about what I expect to do on this blog. Pretty much I'm going to be putting essays, and rants on here. Once in a while I might put a story on this blog (that depends on my actually finishing a story I begin) but if I ever do I'm sure I'll put it on here so that you can give me feedback on it.

That is if anyone is actually reading this.... Hello?

Well along with that I may put a few of the exciting event in my life on here. Some pictures, you know the regular bloggy stuff.

And that's about it for now, I'll try to get at least one post per week on here but don't count on it.




Let me just go off into my own little speaking or writing journey for a second

Right now I'm listening to a pandora station for the Young Dubliners. It's pretty awesome. I would definitely recommend it, that is if you are a fan of Irish rock. Well I just wanted to say that I am listening to a song called something like, Mary my Fine daughter, at least that is a line from it.... I just realized that I put a qualifier on a lot of what I say I'll try not to do that from now on, I realize that it is quite annoying and doesn't display any confidence in what I'm saying.


Here I'm going to ask everyone reading this to help me out. Every time, I mean Every single time I put an unecessary little bit into my writing like, at least I think so, I hope I'm right, or something like that I want you to call me out on it. Please. I'll even give you right that if you see one that the next time you see me you can smack me on the back of the head for it.... Also I beg you to not abuse this power. I kind of like my head sometimes.


Well that about it for tonight. I'm going to post something I wrote earlier below. Please read it and tell me what you think. It's about the dangers of sin and eventually overcoming it. I hope you like it.